


War

by HoundsOfGallifrey



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom/sub Play, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mild S&M, Oral Sex, Rating: M, Rating: NC17, Rough Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 11:11:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4057840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoundsOfGallifrey/pseuds/HoundsOfGallifrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock constantly uses John for his experiments, but will these experiments soon become a fight for dominance?</p>
            </blockquote>





	War

         I awoke to the loud singing of birds perched on our windows. I glanced up, groggily, at the clock above my bedroom door. 5:37. I sighed and rolled back over into the comfort of my covers. This, however, was a mistake, for it seemed like the birds just got louder, as if they were determined to get me out of bed. With an even louder sigh, I leaped out of bed, scaring the boisterous birds away. The outside was barely illuminated, other than the first ray of daylight peeping through the horizon.

        I put on some clothes and headed out the door unobtrusively, careful not to wake Sherlock. Then again, he probably hadn't even gone to sleep yet.

        I was greeted outside by the chilly weather of typical London. There wasn't much to do on a Sunday morning. The hoards of people; the bright city lights; the noisy cars; they were all gone. The only thing that flooded the streets were joggers and the flapping pigeons.

        It was nice and calming. I hadn't had a calm day since the war, but it was nice to forget your thoughts sometimes. Meeting Sherlock was basically the war; just more interesting.

        I thought about buying the milk (no one else was going to do it after all), but even the supermarket was closed. I continued to walk through the thawing snow back to our flat.

        It was silent, just as I had left it. It was almost too quiet.

        “Sherlock..?”

        I knew he was awake by now. He was much too busy thinking about a case to sleep. Of course, he refused to actually tell me what his case was about. As a matter of fact, he hasn't even talked to me since he learned about it.

       I heard several thuds from my room in response. He met me in front of the bedroom door.

       “What are you doing?”

        “Nothing.” He evaded my question and left to make some tea. I quickly peered into my bedroom to make sure all my things were intact before I joined him.

 

                                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

       This was how the whole day went. Sherlock would sit in front of his laptop for hours. It kind of made me more curious to learn what was actually troubling him.

       As the sun was setting, I found myself perched on my armchair across from him, flipping through an old, dusty novel. I caught a glimpse of Sherlock glaring at me, pondering.

       “What's wrong?”

       “Oh, nothing.” He turned away and stared back at his laptop screen. I sighed, loud enough for him to hear that I was aggravated. I flipped through the book once again.

       Boredom got the best of me, so I broke the silence. “Sherlock, what is it that you want?”

       “I told you, it's nothing.” He didn’t bother looking up this time.

        “No, Sherlock, it isn't nothing. Just tell me.”

         He shut his laptop and put it off to the side. “I need you to participate in my experiment.”

        “Alright, sure, as long as I don’t end up in a morgue or something.”

         He smirked. “No, it's nothing like that. I just need your reactions, okay?”

        I nodded. Anything was fine with me as long as I could escape the boringness he caused.

        “Follow me.” He lead me to the door of my bedroom and stood in front of it. “Now, whenever you want me to stop, just tell me, okay? Try to participate at first.”

         I was awfully confused, but he didn’t quite give me time to ask questions. He opened the door, and I entered awkwardly. He closed the door behind him.

         "Sherlock-“ And in an instant, he pressed his lips against mine passionately. I fell onto the bed as he fell on top of me. His tongue wrapped around mine, and I couldn't help but join in. I tried to mutter a “stop” but I fell into the warmth of his kiss. I felt my breathing rate increase, yet I somehow enjoyed it. He ended the kiss and slowly made his way down where I felt his tempestuous savory breath against my neck. It was tempting to let out a moan, but I held it in.

           “It’s okay. Let it out.” He whispered before giving my neck a few kisses. I hadn't even noticed that Sherlock had taken my shirt off until I felt goosebumps creeping up my chest. I tried to pull him closer, but instead, he sat up.

          “Also, John, you can’t touch me, unless I touch you. It ruins the experiment.”

          I hadn’t noticed how out of breath I was until he stopped. He continued tracing his fingers up and down my body as his tongue explored my mouth again. I gripped the bed sheets tightly. I felt a bulge in my jeans, but Sherlock didn’t give me enough time to think about it. He pressed his body against mine, hard enough for a sound to escape my mouth.

          He pecked my lips before rolling off the bed. “Are you hungry? I'm feeling a bit peckish myself. We should go get dinner. Get changed.”

         Somehow, he managed to remain composed during the whole thing. Then again, it was _his_ experiment. I exhaled a deep breath and got ready.

         Sherlock remained quiet on the way to the restaurant. I didn't bother intrude his thoughts. He also remained quiet in the restaurant. That is, until the waiter asked what he wanted to order.

        “And what would your date like?”

        “Just a coffee, thanks-“

        “-He's not my date.” I found myself oddly offended. There was no reason for me to be, though.

        “It was just an experiment, John. Stop over-dramatising it.” He was partially right, of course. I did agree to do it out pure of boredom, not necessarily out of love. Yet, I couldn't help feeling like _I_ was the experiment. I was overreacting, but I just felt used.

          That night, Sherlock immediately drifted off to sleep once we reached the flat; everything was going as planned.

 


End file.
